


if i can't try, how can i succeed?

by InterestingName



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Gen, Mediocre Grantaire Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1417117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterestingName/pseuds/InterestingName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a short look into grantaire's life</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i can't try, how can i succeed?

The first thing he noticed, upon awakening, was the dripping taps. It was an odd thing to hear, given the fact that he was in his bedroom and all. His duvet was tucked up to his ears, and his hands were warming themselves between his thighs. Parisian winters are always cold, and today tells him so. It's his own fault, really; everything seems to be, these days. If he hadn't wanted art supplies, if he'd withstood his holey shoes for another day - but it doesn't matter now. The flat - the hovel - has no insultation, the heater is broken, and  _now?_ The taps are dripping. Everything in this place is broken. Including him.

His joints hurt. His fingers are cold, and his toes numb. It hurts his mind to think, and he doesn't want to go back to three days ago; doesn't want to remember the feelings of shame and pity. To his left, his phone buzzes on the tabletop. He can barely move or think, why does someone want to converse with him?

It takes him an age to creep across the cold sheets, and drag his hand from his warm cocoon. He regrets his actions when his fingers touch the cool plastic, and when the bright phone's light hurts his eyes. He can imagine drawing himself, in a happier mood - bed head, stubble, and a scowl.

Luckily, the person who messaged him does not take effort, nor pain. Jehan's texted him, complete with emojis and hearts.  _Can't wait to see you tonight!_ He's written.

The Amis meeting is tonight, at Grantaire's second-favourite drinking place, the Musain. With the remembrance of embarrassment and shame on his breath, he opens the phone. His grubby fingers click across the screen, as he replies.  _Sorry,_ he writes.  _I have a lady friend to meet tonight. Wish me luck!_

He's halfway into the covers when Jehan replies. Instead of admonishment for the lie, or pleading, it is simply  _Don't let Enjolras get to you._

Tonight, Grantaire's lady friend takes the form of a bottle. Who's to say he's a liar?


End file.
